


Sympathetic Influence

by misantlery



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Pre-Canon, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21928315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misantlery/pseuds/misantlery
Summary: Sarah said, "D'you know she really likes 'your silken midnight black curls?'""Does she now?  How do you know?"  Gerry couldn't help but ask.Looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, Sarah said, "I read her diary."
Relationships: Gerry Quinn/Mary Quinn
Comments: 21
Kudos: 127
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Sympathetic Influence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pollitt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/gifts).



> Rated for language. There’s a lot of the McCool family in here, as it didn’t seem quite like a Mary/Gerry Derry Girls fic without them.

“Help me to spread your fragrance everywhere I go - let me preach you without preaching, not by words but by my example - by the catching force, the sympathetic influence of what I do, the evident fullness of the love my heart bears to you.”

**-** _ John Henry Newman _

* * *

"Don't look now but that old man's looking at you again."

Seven year old Gerry Quinn looked up quickly, his abundant black curls bouncing against his chubby cheek. He quickly dropped his head down again to stick his hands into the pockets of his newly issued blazer. "Oh, aye. Ta."

"What's that about then?" The other boy asked.

"That's the father of the girls who live down the street."

"You do anything?"

"Nah." Gerry offered, "We just moved here from Letterkenny."

"Oh, okay." The boy shrugged. "I'm Sean." 

"My name's Gerry."

Sean looked again. "It's weird that he's still looking at you like that."

Gerry shrugged again. "We were playing in the front yard yesterday, me and her and her sister, and he looked out the window at me like that. I dunno why. Her mammy and mine were drinking tea in the kitchen and they wanted us out of the house."

"What were you doing, then?"

"I wanted to be Cú Chulainn, but Mary wanted to play house. Sarah wanted to do hairdressing."

"Couldn't Mary get her hair done by Sarah and you be done with it?"

"Nah. Sarah wanted to get her hair done and Mary said she had to do the chores. Guess they was fighting so loud it made the dog start barking like he was kicked, so we all got sent out."

"What you do then?"

"Walked around the yard, throwing sticks and rocks. Maybe we got into their garden a minute."

The driver yelled, "Are you getting on or what?" and they dutifully boarded the bus for St Leo's Elementary School for boys.

* * *

It was just supposed to be a small favor. 

Gerry's mammy had asked him, and like a good 10-year-old, he went round to the McCools to borrow the big plate, since his granda was visiting and Mammy liked to show a good spread. 

As he came over the hill, he saw a ring of shouting kids near the McCool house. He recognized Deirdre and Kathy Maguire, with Mary in the center. She was looking hard-eyed at some boy a little taller than her, and clinging to her back was Sarah. "Oh, aye," she said. "I'll kick your teeth in if you say another filthy word to her."

Gerry was not one to start a fight, and knew others considered him quiet, but he pushed on through and stepped forward. Before he could say anything, the boy clicked his tongue. "You think you're so tough, Mary McCool."

She crossed her arms in front of her. "For my own, I am. Try me."

Right then, Gerry realized she was as fierce as any legendary Irish fighting man.

Suddenly, there was a flurry and most of the children scattered, leaving Gerry there to face Mary, Sarah, the Maguire girls, and Mr. McCool. "So, were you part of that mess, Gerry?" Mr. McCool asked.

"I just got here!" he protested. "All I want is to ask for a big plate!"

"What's the matter, Mary?" asked Mr. McCool.

"That fella threw Sarah's doll onto the roof, Dad."

"Oh." Mr McCool looked up at the roof, then he looked over at Gerry. With a sinking heart, Gerry thought he knew what was going to happen. He hoped he was wrong. That roof looked to be pretty high up.

"Gerry, if you could get that, that would be grand," Mary said.

He was not wrong. He was also unhappy about it.

Still, somehow, Mary McCool opened her mouth, and he found himself agreeing, that yes, it would be nice to help her get something off the roof, and it was more to the left, and Christ, there was a bloody lot of shite on the roof. Before he was done, he was hanging off the side of the roof, his jacket ripped, his feet in the wind, Sarah grabbing his belt off and pulling his trousers down onto his ankles, Deirdre and Kathy Maguire howling like they was kicked, the dog pissing and puking inside the house, and Mary trying to talk her way out of the situation, panicking in front of her mammy and trying to move blame from herself. There were loud threats to his body and about his parents from her da.

Sweet Jesus. Right quick, he needed to learn there was no such thing as a small favor with Joe or Mary McCool.

* * *

"Hey, Mary."

"Oh, hey, Gerry." She smiled. In a smooth motion that spoke of much practice, she tossed her long hair over the shoulder of her avocado-colored polyester dress. Unfortunately for her, the wind was blowing in the wrong direction just then and blew it all back. She coughed and batted at it wildly.

Not that Gerry Quinn cared. Mary McCool was a sight for sore eyes, all right. At fifteen, she had good teeth, nice hair, liked listening to Van Morrison and the Rolling Stones and Grand Funk Railroad, seemed to like his company, and that was good enough for him.

"Hey, Mary," he said, again, hoping she was still paying attention.

She snapped her head up, and then shook it, as if it were something she meant to do all along. "Hey, Gerry," she said, throatily. She squinched her eyes, opening and shutting them rapidly, as if something were stuck in them.

"You okay there, Mary?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine." She kept squeezing her eyes.

He cleared his throat and looked around, wondering what it was she was trying to look at, if it wasn't to dislodge something. Finally, he blurted, "You want to go for a soda sometime?"

"Oh, OH." Her eyes widened. When she wasn't squinching them like they were infected, she had very fine blue eyes, she did. "Yes."

Joe McCool walked deliberately into his line of sight and squinted at him. "Asking a girl for a soda right after church." He tsked. "I got my eye on you, boyo."

Now, Gerry Quinn might think Mary McCool was pretty, he might think she was clever, he might wonder at her ability to draw people to her, he might even think it was bloody heart-warming how she talked all manner of shite, but there was just something about Joe McCool. Mostly that something was being good at blaming everything on Gerry Quinn. From the noise made in the mornings when the trash was picked up even though they lived pretty far down down the street, to the price of milk at the shop when they crossed paths, to the screaming of the cats at night when the Quinns didn't even so much as own a cat, so Gerry Quinn knew enough to keep his gob shut around Joe McCool. He simply nodded and turned away.

"I'll be keeping you at home, Mary," Joe said. 

"Dad!" Mary cried. "Saturday at 2," she called to Gerry as she walked by.

When Mary did show up at the little sweets and ice cream shop, she sheepishly presented Sarah. "If you don't mind, Gerry," she said. "Sarah will be joining us today."

"Ah," he started. He rather did mind. But the pleading look she gave him, it did soften him up. "I really wanted to come alone, but Dad didn't want me to. But Mammy said if I brought Sarah as chaperone, then it would be okay."

Sarah got comfortable on one of the foldout chairs and announced, "I'd like an vanilla float, please."

Mary said, "If you don't mind, Gerry. I don't have to get anything."

Gerry mentally calculated the money he had. All that effort in running errands for old fellas around the neighborhood, and it came down to this, ice cream for a date and her sister. "Mary, get what you like. I asked you." 

The smile Mary gave him was worth the pain in his pocketbook.

After Sarah had started on her vanilla float, she asked for some crisps. "Because Gerry didn't get anything, and that makes me hungrier."

Gerry mentally groaned at the future emptiness of his pockets, but he did pay up. The McCools might take a mile when given an inch, but he found himself ready to do and maybe more to please Mary. 

Mary excused herself to use the toilet. 

Sarah said, "D'you know she really likes 'your silken midnight black curls?'"

"Does she now? How do you know?" Pleased with the information he was just given, yet feeling dubious at the source, Gerry couldn't help but ask.

Looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, Sarah said, "I read her diary."

Torn as to the rightness of what he was almost certain was unprovoked diary reading, and wanting more information, Gerry sat, frantically wondering if he should be trying to make conversation, or to get the most data out of his date's little sister.

"She likes you a lot."

Mary returned and sat down. As she smiled at him, Gerry knew himself for a sucker.

* * *

The small box in Gerry's pocket was burning a hole through his pants. 

Tonight would be the night. He had a good solid job driving for a local brewery, some savings, and a line on an affordable apartment with all the mod cons. In the immediate evening, Sarah had a fella she would be busy with, Mary's parents were out.

After two previous attempts had gone belly-up, all the stars had finally aligned. 

Mary was looking lovely, and Gerry felt himself to be his most generous witty self throughout dinner. When they approached dessert, he leaned forward. "Mary - "

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He knew without looking who it must be. "Mr. McCool?"

"Aye. Imagine me and my wife's surprise to see the two of you here."

"Imagine," said Gerry. 

"What're you doing here, Dad?" Mary asked.

"I asked Mammy if she wanted to go out to dinner tonight and she said she wanted to come here." 

"Right," Gerry said. "Well, lovely to see you, but -"

"What a surprise, Mary!"

Gerry closed his eyes. It could not be. It just couldn't. He opened his eyes to see Sarah bearing down upon them like the iceberg wearing the latest lipstick upon the Titanic, dragging a hapless-looking fella behind her. "Evening, Sarah. You're having dinner here as well?"

"Evening, Gerry. Mary, Mammy, Daddy. I turned to - " Sarah began, and then smiled at her partner, "and I asked if he wanted to have dinner here and that was it."

"Lovely," Gerry said. "We'll be leaving soon, just as soon as we get dessert. I don't want to take you away from dinner."

"Nonsense," Joe said. He called for a waitress. "Can we sit together? Just shove some more chairs in?"

Gerry didn't know what he was going to do. His smile felt frozen on his face. He really didn't want to ask Mary in front of these people. He didn't know if he even wanted to be related to them, he certainly wasn't thinking about it when he had bought the ring. He wondered if he had kept the receipt and if the store might take it back.

Joe leaned towards Gerry, his voice lowered, threateningly. "You going to do it?"

"Do what, exactly?"

"From the way you've got your hand in your pocket you're either going to propose to our Mary tonight or else you've been playing with yourself since we got here."

"Christ!" Gerry exploded, standing up. "Okay. Okay."

"Gerry?" Mary asked, looking away from the conversation she had been carrying on with Sarah and her Mammy about what the gravy on the roast beef looked like and should corn starch really be in real gravy anyway?

"I can't." Gerry shook his head. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"Gerry?" asked Mary, her eyes wide.

"He was going to ask you to marry him," Sarah said. 

Gerry put a hand over his face as Mary's eyes, impossibly, became wider. "Gerry?"

"Or he's going to puss out and leave like I always thought he would," Joe said, nodding.

His breath coming fast, Gerry pointed a finger at Joe. "Old man, shut up."

"How could you?" Sarah said. "Yell at Dad like that."

He realized he was sweating. The restaurant was completely silent. "Mary? Come on outside." 

Mary threw the napkin off her lap and stood up. He could feel the eyes of every diner in the place follow them outside.

They made it to the outside of the restaurant when Mary burst into tears. 

"Jesus," Gerry said, softly, reaching forward to take her hand, drawing her close to him. As loud, as fierce as she could be, she seemed so small then. "I'm sorry, Mary. I didn't mean it."

"You didn't mean you wanted to get married?"

"No, I mean, I didn't mean to yell at your dad. I mean, I sort of did. The timing was bad."

"But do you want to get married? Are you not going to marry me, then?"

"No, no no no. Mary, I'm sorry about what just happened in there. I love you and I wish to marry you even if marrying you means I'm going to have to deal with your father every day for the rest of my natural life."

"Then why'd you say you couldn't?"

"You know I don't like making a scene or being pushed into something. I didn't want to ask you in front of them, not when you couldn't say no. I don't care so much for whatever people say, but you should say what you want, if it's yes or if it's no." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the box, opened it to reveal a slender silver band. "I love you. I think I've loved you my whole life. And I'm asking you to do me the great honor of being my wife, Mary McCool, in front of Jesus, God, everybody in this restaurant looking out the window at us, and especially your whole family."

"Gerry Quinn, I've loved you since we were wains. I can’t imagine you not being there, being for me, grounding my wild ideas. You give me space to be me, you see me for myself, even if my family is there all the time,” she rolled her eyes. Then she smiled. “Yes, of course, I'll marry you."

A great cheer came up through the door. Mrs. McCool ran over to Mary.

"Christ," Joe McCool muttered. "Just when I thought we had shaken the bugger. He couldn’t even get on one knee."

"Joseph McCool," Mrs McCool gritted between her teeth, "if you ruin this for Mary, I'll smother you in your sleep." She turned to Sarah and announced, "We don't need dessert. We'll go home and celebrate. I'm going to break into the Christmas cupboard early for the occasion."

* * *

"Mary, the baby's beautiful," Gerry said, reaching a hand to stroke at the downy head of the newly born Erin Quinn.

She smiled up at him, pale and exhausted, but triumphant after twelve hours of labor. “Our baby,” she said. “Our family.”

They were surrounded by their families, but had somehow separated from them. The start of a new family, he thought. "I love you," he whispered, leaning over to press his lips against her cheek. “And our family.”

"I love you, too," she said. Then she looked down at Erin. "I love her so much already."

Later, Joe pulled him over. "I guess congratulations are in order," he said. He seemed oddly gleeful. "You're going to have your hands full, with a new baby."

"I'll be glad about it," Gerry said.

"Still, she's beautiful."

"Aye," Gerry said. "Mary is."

Joe gave him a sharp look. "Sometimes, there's something valuable in the shite you say. Rare, but it's still there."

* * *

"Gerry!" 

Gerry and Erin looked up from the garden to the open second floor window. “You okay, Mary?” Gerry called.

"GERRY! JESUS, GERRY! COME HERE!"

He took Erin inside and left her with Joe. 

"What did you do now?" Joe asked.

Without answering, Gerry hauled up the stairs and into their bedroom, but found it empty. "Where are you?"

"BATHROOM, GERRY!"

After attempting to open the door, he said, "Mary, you've got to unlock the door if you want me to come in."

The door clicked open and Mary stood there, her eyes wild. He took in the usual mess of the bathroom, and then the unusual mess of plastic Woolworth bag and a couple of extra cups on the counter before she rushed by and shut the door behind him.

"What is - " before he could finish his sentence, she thrust a plastic wand in his face. In the little window was a couple of very dark pink lines. 

"This!" she cried.

"Wait, wait," he said. "Is that a pregnancy test?"

"There's the control line, and there's the line in the test area. There shouldn't be a line in the test area if there isn't a pregnancy, but there is a line, which means there is a pregnancy, Gerry."

"Okay, okay," he said, holding his hands up. "You took a pregnancy test and it's positive."

She inhaled hard, her mouth tight. "Yes, Gerry. Nice to know you’re listening."

"When - when do you think - how long - " he couldn't hold himself together.

"I don't know." She tipped her head in thought. "It could be eight weeks?"

"Eight weeks?" he repeated.

"Maybe twelve."

"Okay. Twelve."

"I don't know. I wasn't paying attention. I thought maybe fourteen weeks."

"Fourteen?"

"I had that bad cold. And the stomach flu that took so long to get over - ooooh. That's what that was. And then Erin was busy in that play two months ago, and I was really distracted and I was never really regular anyway. It was nice not to have a period so I didn't think about it. So, like I was saying. Sixteen weeks."

"You're four months along is what you're saying?"

"Sweet Jesus, I'm four months pregnant," Mary exclaimed, clutching the sink behind her. "What're we going to do?"

"I thought after Erin, and all that time, I thought it wasn't going to happen. Sometimes, it doesn't."

Mary looked miserable as she snapped, "It's a miracle! Just like another Mary we know."

Improbably, Gerry's breathed bubbled up from his stomach and he began to laugh. "We're having another baby? We're having another baby!" He picked Mary up and swung her, the little bit of movement that was possible in that cramped little bathroom. 

"You're not upset? Having another baby? After all this time? It's going to be so expensive. We've gotten rid of the crib!"

"Mary McCool Quinn, having another baby with you would be a blessing. I love you, and I love Erin, and I will love our new baby."

His joy was apparently infectious, because her mouth began to turn upwards at the corners. "Really? You're happy?"

"This is the best news since you told me about Erin."

“Do you care if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t. Boy or girl, if the baby is a part of us, then I will love it. If it’s a girl, maybe we can name her after your mammy.”

"I love you, Gerry Quinn, and I can't imagine another life without you." She closed her eyes, and popped them back open. "How're we going to tell people? At our age? How's Erin going to take it? Thirteen is a really impressionable time in a girl's life."

"We'll just have to break it to them gently."

The pounding on the bathroom door began. 

"Mammy! Is it true? You and Daddy going to have another baby?" Erin shouted through the door. 

"A baby!" cried Sarah.

"Oh, I knew you was trouble, Gerry! I should have broken your engagement when I had the chance," Joe said.

"I love babies," Orla said. "Can you get me a baby, Mammy?"

"On second thought, I don't think we have to tell people," Gerry said. "Your family's got that eavesdropping all covered."

"Our family," Mary said, tentatively putting a hand on her stomach.

"Aye. All ours," Gerry said, smiling, putting his hand over hers.

"Jesus, that's embarrassing!" Erin sputtered. "I mean, how old are you? What am I going to tell the girls?"

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a complete misuse of a quote about Christ by John Henry Newman.


End file.
